


Change of Plans

by OutcastTrip1995



Series: So, a Mando, a Dathomirian and an Umbaran Walk Into a Cantina [14]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Doesn't stop him from being an amoral and vicious SOB, He's totally unapologetic too, Nikov and Sunny are just desensitized and seriously don't care at this point, One that's damn good at changing plans and adapting to the situation, Swipes is an unhinged bastard, The Infiltration Team kinda look up to him in some weird way, Umbara was hell!, Wrench is sick of his attitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 06:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15528453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutcastTrip1995/pseuds/OutcastTrip1995
Summary: Adapt: to fit, change, or modify to suit a new or different purpose. Something Swipes is dangerously good at; something that makes the Umbara mission all the more dangerous.





	Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Hellions belong to Naaklasolus!
> 
> Yes; Swipes is creepy, unhinged, sociopathic and possibly deranged. No, he doesn't care and no I'm not sorry that he is that way.

“Boss?” 

Swipes grunted quietly, a dangerous look on his tattooed features. The lean clone was perched on the stump of one of Umbara’s many trees, cold eyes glaring at the gathering of clones as he casually tossed a knife in his hand. Sneak and Spectre looked at each other before Sneak gulped and edged around to face his deadly superior officer. 

“Boss? Spectre’s back.” 

Catching the blade of the knife with a confidence born from day after day of repeating the same movements, Swipes gestured roughly with said knife. Sliding out of the shadows, Spectre grimly looked at the older assassin. 

“They’re onto us Boss. That weird medic … he knows you’re up to something. And he knows about The List.” 

Swipes’ eyes narrowed, his lip curling in a savage sneer. There was only one Hellion who Spectre could be talking about. Only another Priest trained clone would even be able to come close to understanding his methods, never mind actually figuring out his plan. But that was why he had plans within plans within plans. He wasn’t the best for nothing. 

“Voss.” 

The name rumbled up from his chest in a deep growl, the assassin’s hate filled gaze focusing in on the medic in question over by the triage area. Snarling under his breath, Swipes muttered some vicious curses before turning his attention to his two subordinates. 

“We’re going to have to adapt the plan. Where are we with being ready?” 

Spectre looked over at Sneak, letting the older, more senior clone take the lead. Glowering at the younger of the two assassins present, Sneak shrugged to resettle his armour before folding his arms. 

“The data package is ready to send to every GAR and Jedi inbox when you’re ready Boss. Jackal says Yamaha needs a bit more time ‘cause he’s trying to avoid Reaper’s attention; although that fuck up between Krell and Warbrat’s bought him some valuable space. Quicksilver’s ready to go though. Just give the word and he’ll go to work.” 

Nodding thoughtfully Swipes started to toss his knife again, a pensive look on his face as his eyes tracked the way the spinning blade caught the light. 

“If Voss is onto us then we need to back off a bit. Hold off on sending the data package and tell Quicksilver to hold for now; better to have him strike once we take the airbase and don’t need as many blasters healthy. Better still, get Yamaha to hurry the fuck up with those shaped shrapnel explosives.” 

He threw a dangerous look at Sneak. 

“If we’re right and Krell’s going to insist on constant full frontal assaults, it’ll be a perfect smokescreen to disable anyone who might stop us. And that includes the ARC’s and medics, particularly Krell’s little puppet and Voss. We need those shaped charges and we need them fast, tell him to pull Boom-Time in if he has to just get them done!” 

Sneak nodded sharply, not even bothering to question Swipes’ changes to the plan. He’d grown to accept that Swipes was constantly planning and replanning, his mind never resting. But the experienced, if somewhat (read considerably) unstable, assassin had never lead them wrong so the younger infiltration clone turned on one heel, bounding away into the shadows. Swipes didn’t bother to watch him leave, instead sliding his knife back into it’s’ sheath and standing. 

“Spectre on me.” 

The younger assassin slid into his shadow, following as they made their way towards the camp. 

“Boss?” 

Swipes looked down at Spectre, an almost … tender; was it tender? Yes, definitely tender … look in his eyes. 

“Get some rest brat. I need you at your best if we’re to take Krell down.” 

Nodding, Spectre couldn’t help but frown as he stopped, watching Swipes continue. 

“What are you gonna be doing?” 

Pausing, Swipes turned and grinned eerily at the other clone. 

“There’s some things I have to do. Then I’m gonna go have some fun.” 

*** 

Neither Nikov or Sunny flinched as Swipes prowled of the shadows to join them, standing at Nikov’s left in a similar position to Sunny on the Zabrak’s right. 

“The plan’s had to change.” 

Nikov snorted, ever assessing silver eyes barely even flicking over to acknowledge Swipes’ presence before he looked back over at the triage area. 

“Ah ain’ surprise’. D’ya still thin’ ya can ge’ done wha’cha nee’ ta?” 

Swipes snorted and spat in the dirt, a dark amusement in his eyes. 

“Oh please, like you even doubt me. I’m just offering the same courtesy to you as I do Wardaddy, that’s all Warbrat.” 

“As amusing as this inevitable exchange in pleasantries is.” 

Sunny looked over to Swipes, his eyes flicking over to the medics before returning to the assassin. 

“The new medic, the one Krell specifically requested be brought down here to treat Warbrat’s little … tap. What d’you make of them?” 

Swipes turned a professional eye on the borderline emaciated medic, watching how they flinched whenever another clone got too close or moved suddenly, how they seemed to only use exactly what was needed and nothing more despite their pack clearly being full to bursting with medical supplies. Frowning as the skinny little medic kept hunched over, presenting as small a target as possible and avoiding any and all attempts to socialise or even interact with the other clones around them, Swipes chewed momentarily on his lip. 

“Something’s wrong. Look at them … they’re acting more like an abused strill than a medic that should definitely be experiencing a lot of perks from being Krell’s personal medic. The flinching, clear avoidance of interaction and there’s evidence of hoarding and yet they’re clearly not eating enough … all adaptations to help them survive and just … just exist. Not live, just exist.” 

Swipes looked grimly at his superior officers, golden eyes unreadable. 

“Something is very wrong with that little medic; very, very wrong. Keep an eye on them.” 

Swipes returned his gaze to the little medic, an almost calculating look to his gaze now. 

“They’re a weak point.” 

And a potential in to putting Krell out of the Outcasts’ misery, but Swipes would keep that to himself as he mentally readjusted the plan to adapt to the new circumstances. After all, it was clear that for whatever reason, Krell only really tolerated that single little medic tending to him … and it was oh so easy for medical accidents to happen. A shame, but that’s what happened when medics were overworked and given poor supplies. Slipping his helmet on to hide his smile, Swipes continued to eye the skinny medic. Oh yes, they were perfect for getting rid of Krell, and the fact that the GAR would blame the medic for Krell’s unfortunate and untimely demise rather than investigating too deeply into the Jedi’s death because they just loved scapegoats … well that was just an extra bonus in Swipes’ opinion. It’d keep suspicion off the Outcasts and potentially pit the Hellions against each other, making his life even easier. And yet … he knew that both his Jedi would want to rescue the little medic, the kid was clearly unwanted by the Hellions and Wrench was severely overworked as the only medic the Outcasts had. Frowning, he readapted his plan, discarding the idea to use the little medic as a tool and scapegoat. The call to move out disrupted his train of thought and drew a snarl from the irritable assassin. Krell had the worst fucking timing in history and no mistake. Grumbling under his breath, Swipes followed after Nikov and Sunny, falling into line alongside Wrench. The Chief Medical Officer looked at the assassin with undisguised suspicion, icy eyes cold and unyielding. 

“Whatever scheme you’re cooking up … just stop now. We can’t afford anyone getting more suspicious; I don’t know how much information that new medic feeds back to his master.” 

Swipes didn’t deign to look at Wrench, lazily vaulting over a particularly large root in his way. 

“So suspicious Wrench, one would think you didn’t trust me.” 

“I don’t.” 

Wrench’s hand instinctively rubbed a weld patch on his armour that rested just over his sternum, an action that made Swipes wince involuntarily. That … that was one of the few mistakes he regretted. The medic eyed the assassin a little longer before returning his gaze to the trail. 

“You’re not the only one who’s had to adapt to survive Swipes. I learned a long time ago to never trust a damn thing you say … or do.” 

His hand moving away from the patch, Wrench paused on the trail and jammed his fingers into the joint between Swipes’ breastplate and his pauldron, cruelly digging his fingers into a pressure point hard enough for Swipes to reach for a knife out of instinct. Wrench smirked, his point proven, and pulled free; picking up the pace to return to his spot in the line. 

“Just remember Swipes, you’re not the only killer here. I know what you are … and I know how to kill you just as you know how to kill me.” 

Swipes snarled, his hand falling away from the hidden blade as he fell back into line, bodyslamming one of the slim Hellions out of the way as he did so. The sooner this mission was over, the sooner he could go back to his proper job … a job that meant he got to spend as little time as possible in Wrench’s presence. Until then … until then he’d just have to adapt and deal. Changing to cope with the situation: something he’d mastered a long time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Feel free to leave kudos and review! X3


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